Whatever Comes First
by I am Cara
Summary: Patricia Kellings is taken a prisoner of war by Tavington. After a while, she begins to fall for him, but does he love her? Suggestive content, and some blood. Suicide mentions.
1. Intro

Whatever Comes First

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Patriot; if I did, I would've made Tavy live MUCH longer.

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Chapter One

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Colonel William Tavington lay in a medical bed, staring at the white ceiling, white walls, and grass floor. His head pounded. Nurses ran around him, aiding all the wounded soldiers from the Battle of Yorktown. He wasn't dead. He was very much alive, in fact. That silly farmer, Ben Martin, he had fallen for the same 'play dead' trick his son had.

His dignity, it was gone, though. Even the thought of lying on the ground, at the mercy of that redneck, bleeding, was horrendous.

A nurse came over, lifted the bandages from around his neck, looking at the wound to his collarbone. She poured some antiseptic into the tingling cut, and replaced the wrappings. She did the same for his stomach and his shoulder, from which the bullet had been pulled.

"Well, Colonel, I don't see an infection. You're amazing," she said, hands on hips.

"I'm more amazing when I'm on a horse," he muttered, but his upper chest began stinging, and he fell silent.

As 'The Butcher', he had to be able to do this well.

He rested his head on his pillow. As his shoulder wound began to burn, he fell into a deep sleep.

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It was short, it was sweet, second chappie coming soon! 


	2. A Survivor to the Survivor

Chapter Two

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Disclaimer: I don't own T.P.

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Patricia Kellings wore black.

Ever since her husband had been fatally shot in his home by Tavington for assault on an officer, she had swore revenge.

She remembered the night quite clearly...

**_ Flashbacks..._**

****

Crack.

Patty had said nothing as she watched her husband die, his blood pooling out. Upon his horse, Tavington sat, his pistol aimed at the dead figure of Eric Kellings, lest he might need it again. He blew the thin wisp of smoke from the head of it, and put it back in it's holster.

He wasn't showing off. He just didn't care.

"Your husband?" he asked nonchalantly. He wasn't looking at her.

Patricia said nothing. Tears of anger burned down her cheeks. She kneeled next to the body.

"Well, he's dead now, isn't he? Surely he must be in a better place then this; then again, now he's out of this world, it seems so much... cleaner," he said. He laughed at his own cruel joke and kicked his horse.

Patricia looked up.

"Monster!" she screamed.

Tavington halted, and barely looked over his shoulder.

"What was that?" he asked.

"You filthy, bloody monster!" she cried, defiantly to the back of his head.

There was a pause, and Tavington turned his head away. She was a waste of time. He didn't move.

'You've done it now,' Patricia thought, 'He's going to kill you.'

"Bordon!" the colonel called.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Deal with the woman. Burn the house when you are done."

Bordon froze. "But sir, we are not allow-"

Tavington cut him off. He stepped off his horse. "Bordon, are you going to argue with me..." he pulled the pistol from his pocket and reloaded it, "...Or will I have to come over there and see to it that you follow my orders personally?"

Bordon looked at Patricia, her husband, and back at Tavington.

"Yes, sir," he said.

Tavington got back on his horse and started off.

Bordon whispered, "Don't you dare tell him I'm doing this, or he'll kill me." He took Patricia, threw her on the ground, smeared some blood on her side, and fired his pistol into the air. She lay still, with her eyes closed.

She heard Bordon riding away, and the two men talking.

"Really? She went without a fight?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir," Bordon said.

There was a silence, and Tavington got off his horse. Patricia heard him walking over. She heard the click off a gun above her. Freezing, she knew what was to come.

A silence, then-

BAM.

She felt the bullet rip through her, and she screamed and writhed on the ground.

Tavington was walking away.

"Let it be known, Bordon, if you can't kill a woman, I will."

They rode off.

Patricia blacked out.

**_ End Flashbacks_**

****

That night had been the scariest of her life. Her neighbors had found her half dead, in the rubble of her burned home. For weeks, she had been resting. She had a shattered pelvis.

Every day, as the medicine she took kept her awake, only one thought crossed her head.

'I swear, I'm going to kill you.'


	3. A Meeting with the Lord

Chapter Three

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

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A/N: This chapter skips ahead two months from the first two chapters, I mean, come on. Who likes to see a wounded Tavy? Please review!

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"Colonel! You're almost completely well!" cried a soldier, as Tavington walked out of the medical tent for the first time in five months.

His shoulder, not surprisingly, was the only thing he was waiting for. And he wasn't going to wait anymore.

"Colonel," O'Hara said, coming up to him and shaking his hand, "It's nice to see you better. Lord Cornwallis wants a word with you."

"Oh, that man. Damn him. Are you sure he wanted to see me?" Tavington asked, already aggravated.

"Why, yes."

"How did he know I would be out by today?"

"He arranged it, sir."

"Leave me, then. I'll go," the colonel said, coldly. He was quite annoyed that his freedom from bed was interrupted. Again.

He cursed out O'Hara in his head. 'Such a lapdog', he thought, 'That man has no life.' He reached Cornwallis' tent.

"Take a seat," Cornwallis commanded.

Tavington sat, in the famous 'yelling chair', as he called it. He was asked to sit in it whenever the Lord was to criticize his battle tactics.

"I trust your arm andbayonet wounds are better?" Cornwallis asked.

Tavington tried to stretch his arm, but recoiled it in sharp, stinging pain.

"Actually, everything but the arm," Tavington said.

"Is it infected?"

"There is a chance."

Cornwallis leaned back in his seat. "We thought you had been killed."

Tavington said nothing.

Cornwallis leaned back, took a bottle of wine from the shelf behind him, and put it on his desk. He handed Tavington a crystalline glass, and took one for himself.

"Unfortunately, the bullet only hit your shoulder," Cornwallis joked, and poured the wine. Tavington, used to being made fun of by Cornwallis, used his grin-and-bear-it method. He smiled a tiny bit, but was really thinking, 'If you weren't my lord, I'd have a bullet through your head.'

He sipped the wine. "Why did you call me down here?" he asked, cautiously.

Cornwallis leaned foward. His fingers were entwined. "I hope you can understand, Colonel, that I respect the injury of your shoulder and such, but I need ask of you to get back to work as soon as you can. I need you to lead the Dragoons on a few raids, and there are simply no others to do the job."

A call to go back to work? "Oh, but my Lord, "Tavington said, "I've seen other colonel's around the camp... Is there no one else but I?"

Cornwallis stood up, wine in hand, looking out the window. "Yes, there are, but they...how do I put it? They cannot get the job done...as you do."

Tavington smirked as he drank. He _did_ favor his tactics, after all.

"I'll give you two more days off, then can you return to work?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent, colonel. Here's to your health."

Both men clinked glasses and drank the rest.

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More Coming! 


	4. Target Practice

Chapter Four

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

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A/N: It starts getting good around this point! Please review! Also, a side note. This may well be the last time I update for quite a while, you see, I have been grounded. Again. For about a month offline. Oo;;, I'll try to get on very hard. I have the whole story written out in my journal because of my free time, now let's see if I can post it!

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**_Bam._**

Patricia reloaded, aimed, and fired the musket again.

_**Bam.**_

"Patricia! What are you doing?" her neighbor, Anne, cried. Patricia let the musket fall to her side. She pointed to the tree covered in bullet holes.

"Target practice," she said, rather simply.

"Silly girl," said Anne, "Put it away. You'll never need it."

"Tavington," Patricia said, aiming at the old elm and firing again.

Anne went pale.

Patricia reloaded, but Anne pushed the barrel down.

"You aren't going after him...?" she asked, nervously.

"Yes."

Anne slapped her across the cheek. Patricia was shocked. She stopped and cried, "Why, you-"

"Think about what you said, Patty! Revenge for your husband has driven you mad!"

"I'll get the bastard, so I will!"

"I won't let you get hurt anymore then you already are!"

Patricia held up the musket. Anne froze in her tracks.

"Patty...You wouldn't dare," she said, a bead of sweat rolling down her cheek.

Patty shook her head. "No, I wouldn't dare fire on you. I'm gonna get Tavington, for sure. So help me god, I will kill him. It doesn't matter if he come's here, or if I have to march all the way down to the fort - So help me god, I'll get the bastard."

Yes, very short.


	5. The Attack

Chapter Five

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Patricia Kellings.

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"Saddle Big Ben for me and I'll be out in two minutes," Tavington said to O'Hara, who was standing in the doorway. He tucked in his shirt and pulled on his red vest.

"I can't do that, Colonel."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"You know as well as I do, sir, that he will not let anyone else but you saddle him, or he will rear."

Tavington chuckled at the thought of O'Hara being kicked. "Exactly, O'Hara. Saddle my horse."

O'Hara rolled his eyes and walked away.

Outside, the colonel stood, watching four or five men try to conquer the stubborn horse. He laughed in a sadistic little way. Finally, they got it right.

Tavington got on. He kicked the horses' side and took off, the Dragoons slowly assembling behind him in their formation. By the time he reached the fort gates, they were all there.

He sped out, feeling the cool, crisp wind biting his face. He had grown immune to the sharpness of the wind in his eyes long ago. After a while, the towns started to appear.

As he could see the towns, the towns could see him.

Cries of, "It's the Butcher!" and "No, he's back!" rang from the now-panicked colonists. When he finally reached the town, everyone had boarded themselves up into their homes.

Tavington's shoulder bean to sting, but he ignored it. The Dragoons behind him halted as he raised his hand to think. Where had Cornwallis told him to raid, again?

His train of thought was interrupted by a woman with a musket, standing in the center of the main road, facing him with angry blue eyes.

She had brown hair, about up to shoulder length. She was about 5'7 with a long, black dress on. She was about twenty-five or so.

Tavington smiled, being a gentleman. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

The young woman picked up the musket and aimed. "You know who I am," she said, hostilely.

"No, I believe I-" Tavington began, but a sudden memory crossed his mind. It was that silly little woman from the farm and her husband, the one he had shot. But, why wasn't she dead?

"Oh, you. That stupid woman with her stupid husband. Forgive my memory," he said.

The gun clicked at him, almost threateningly.

"I'm not forgiving anything about you!" she cried.

"Oh, you fool. Put that down," Tavington said. He was careless, yet he knew she might shoot at any time. But what were the chances? He had shot her before, he could afford to do it again. One less brat on the face of the planet.

"My name's Patricia, and I'm going to kill you!" she cried. Rage burned inside her. Why wasn't he afraid?

Then it hit her. He was Tavington.

Tavington smiled at her. "Going to kill me?" he repeated, in a question. He chuckled. The Dragoons stood behind him, silent, like bodyguards.

Patricia's hands were shaking.

Tavington tipped his hat to her, in an insulting kind of way. "I bid you good day," he said obnoxiously, and turned the other way.

Before she knew what she was doing, Patricia fired at Tavington's head.

Tavington felt the bullet graze his hat, and watched some of the fluff fall. The bullet, which had almost killed him, soared into the chest of a Dragoon, who screamed and fell, dead. Tavington spun around, whipping out his pistol.

"I bid you good day," he whispered, furious, and pulled the trigger as a burning sensation from his shoulder to his hand made him drop the gun.

He gasped, and clutched his shoulder, as the bullet managed to graze Patricia's side.

She doubled over and looked at her hands, covered in blood. Bending over in pain, she looked up at Tavington, who stared at her from his horse, before riding away, the Dragoons following him.

She saw circles dancing before her eyes, and felt a man's hands grabbing her shoulders as she fainted for a second time.

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A/N: Please review! 


	6. Interrogation

Chapter Six

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Disclaimer: Own nothing.

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A/N: In response to **Tigerchild**: Sorry about the short chapters. I promise, they'll get longer.

She fainted the first time in Chapter Two, when Tavy shot her.

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She awoke in a medical bed, in a tent. British were running in and out. A red-faced man with a white wig stood at the foot of her bed.

"Charles O'Hara," he said, seeing she was conscious.

"Patricia," she said. O'Hara sighed. "I've heard."

"Did that bastard tell you?"

"Who? If you're talking about Tavington..."

"Yes, him..."

They both stopped their conversation as they heard yelling from outside the tent.

"That must be him now," O'Hara said.

Tavington stormed in, red in the face, apparently very angry. He was furiously taking a roll of bandage and wrapping up his shoulder by himself, which was not working.

"I'm telling you-!" he yelled to someone outside.

"You'll tell me nothing, Colonel! You need to stop!" A large, middle-aged man came in. Patricia recognized him as the one the colonists so disrespectfully talked about, Lord Cornwallis.

"This girl," argued Tavington, "shot at me first! She killed a Dragoon! You said it yourself, only attack if they show aggression!"

Cornwallis glared. "It's wonderful, Colonel, how you have finally rediscovered the rules of war, but there is no more war! It would've been grand if you had stood by those words a few months ago! However, we have lost. No more rules of war until next time! Do you understand?" he asked, menacingly.

Tavington gave up. "Yes, my lord."

"Remember your place," Cornwallis snapped, and left.

Tavington pulled his hair out of hit braid. It was long and wavy. He threw himself down on a medical cot, held out his bent shoulder and said, "Fix it."

O'Hara went over to him. "Lord Cornwallis is right, you know."

"Not now, O'Hara."

O'Hara was mock-offended.

"What are they doing with that wench? Fill me in," Tavington demanded, completely ignoring the three nurses fussing over his shoulder.

O'Hara leaned foward. "The 'wench, as you call her, is named Patricia."

Patricia looked up at hearing her name.

"I don't care for her name! I need to know if she is loyal to the Crown, as I doubt she is."

O'Hara leaned over to her. "He's in a terrible mood today, forgive him," he whispered, "Pardon my asking, Mrs...?"

"Kellings."

"Mrs. Kellings, but are you a loyalist, or a rebel?"

Patricia knew she must think if she did not want to end up hanging from a tree by these lobsters. "You Redcoats will kill me if I tell you," she answered.

"You are a rebel, then?" O'Hara asked, growing impatient.

"Get rid of her," Tavington called, from across the room.

"I'm not a rebel. I never said I was. But I don't get myself involved in politics and warfare and such. That is for the men in this country to deal with," she answered, wisely.

O'Hara nodded, relieved. "Did you hear that, Colonel?" he asked.

Tavington said nothing, but took a sharp intake of air as a nurse pinched his shoulder too hard.

O'Hara smiled. "You go to sleep," he told Patricia, "I'll tell Cornwallis you are a loyalist, you can stay here now."

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A/N: Didja like it? Review! 


	7. The Truth

Chapter Seven

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Disclaimer: I don't own T.P.

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It was abut 6:30 a.m. when Patricia felt a tap on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Tavington and O'Hara standing there.

"Colonel Tavington will escort you down to Lord Cornwallis' room," O'Hara said.

Patricia yawned. "What time is it?" she asked, drowsily.

"6:48 a.m. I can give you two minutes to get dressed."

Patricia nodded and shooed them out.

Tavington frowned. "My god, O'Hara, can't you take her? You know how I...don't get along with people like that. Do you think it really wise to trust me with someone who shot one of my men?" he asked, quite angry.

O'Hara glared. "Honestly, man, you justkilled her husband! Have some pity, if you can! Can you blame her for being the way she is?"

"For attacking an officer, I can think of many ways."

Before O'Hara could answer, Patricia opened the door, dressed. O'Hara smiled obnoxiously at Tavington and left. "Come on," Tavington ordered, quietly. Patricia followed, silent.

As she walked, she studied him. He was tall, about 6'1, with brown hair neatly pulled back in a wrapped braid. He was in his late thirties, but his eyes were still...young. They alone were untouched by the changes made unto his face by battles long past. He had a painful-looking scar, below his left ear.

She watched him, until he noticed she was staring.

"If there is anything wrong," he started, "Be sure to tell Lord Cornwallis about it." This was his polite way of telling her to 'stand straight, shut up, and leave me alone.'

"I just want to know the face of my husband's murderer, so when he is alone, I can kill him."

Tavington laughed. "You stupid wench. Maybe it would do you good to have a lesson in watching your actions," he said, looking straight ahead.

"And this comes from the man who...is known as the Butcher?"

To this, Tavington prickled.

Suddenly, he pinned her against the wall of the hallway, standing above her. He glared down, Patricia being ready for anything.

"You know..."he said, menacingly, "The time can come along when anything can happen. So.." he stared at her, "Just be ready...when the days comes, and you find a bullet through your chest faster then you can say 'Mercy.'"

Patricia looked up at him, pressed flat on the wall. After a minute, she grinned, cocked her head and said, "Going to kill me?"

Tavington stared at her, saying nothing. Finally, he pulled away. Instantly, he was back into his gentleman state, marching along like it was no one's business, his hands behind his back in an intelligent manner. He looked like a man of great status and authority. And, indeed, he was.

They walked on for a bit, and finally reached the room. With a loud knock to the door, and a "Come in," they entered.

"Sit down, both of you," Cornwallis said. Tavington grew distraught.

"My lord, I was only told to drop her off," he said.

"Well, Colonel, now you are being told to sit down, and if you don't, then I'll drop you down a rank and send you through the basics of war again!" Cornwallis yelled.

Tavington, with his better judgement, sat down. He was not to argue with the man who payed him, if you could call it pay.

"Now, you both probably do not know why you are here, and I'll tell you," Cornwallis let a silence build up. "Patricia Kellings, is that your name?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we are giving you the option of working as a servant in the homes in the fort. It is up to you."

Patricia did not like that idea. "Are there any other options?"

Cornwallis looked upset that Patricia did not regard his offer. "Well, the one other option is the death sentence...carried out wonderfully by our own Colonel Tavington,' he said, and laughed at his own joke. Tavington managed a small smile.

Patricia looked at the colonel, and hated him. She knew he wanted her to act the patriot and say, 'No! I'd rather go down then serve you Redcoats!', but just to spite him without being maimed, she let a, "I'll choose the first," slip from her lips.

Cornwallis clapped his hands. "Excellent, excellent," he said, and turned to Tavington.

"And you, colonel. As a fitting punishment for killing and attacking some of our fellow countrymen"

Tavington stood up, bristling. "My lord, I think that is enough."

There was a deadly silence in the room.

Cornwallis stared in shocked-amazement at this daring remark. "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice soft.

Tavington took a breath. "Might I need remind you, sir, whom it was that gave me the order to raid the village _and_ attack Eric Kellings?"

There was another awkward silence, and Patricia stood up. "What?" she asked, shocked.

Tavington sat, letting his words take effect in the quiet room. He had said, maybe, too much.

"Colonel, you dare to take that tone with me?" asked Cornwallis, flustered. Tavington respectfully bowed his head. "Forgive my outburst, my lord. It was very rude."

"Very rude indeed! I should have you dismissed for that!"

Tavington looked at him. "I beg you to reconsider."

"Wait, it really wasn't Tavington who shot Eric!" Patricia asked, confused. She was still standing up. Both men looked at her.

"Dearest Patricia, I ask that you sit down and we can talk this out," Cornwallis said, feeling rather overwhelmed. These two damned folk were bound to start a riot!

"I won't sit until I know what happened," Patty said, simply. There was another deadly silence, and she felt Tavington's eyes on her.

Cornwallis made himself comfortable in his chair.

As he spoke, the words hit her worse then Tavington's bullets.

"First, let me tell you, Patricia, your husband was not being loyal to you."

Patricia said nothing.

"After we found this, we searched his home. We found a large debt he owed some British taverns that he never payed. We also found..." Cornwallis trailed off.

Maybe he had been waiting for her to ask, "What?", but she didn't, so he continued.

"A plan to kill you and three other women that he was disloyal to," he said.

Patricia stared. "A reason for murder?" she asked, still not seeing their point on the subject.

Cornwallis leaned back."A reason not to murder!" he countered.

Patricia stood up. She was quiet for a minute, before saying, "I think I've heard enough. Thank you for your time, Lord Cornwallis."

As she walked out the door, she heard Tavington say, "And that's all she wrote."

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	8. Midnight Hall's Lady Cardian

Chapter Eight

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P., only Patricia Kellings.

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A/N: Skipping ahead a month later. And remember, people, I am a review freak, and if I do not get reviews then I will assume this story sucks and stop writing it! Review! Sorry, this chapter is themedium one, I think. The next one is pretty short.

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Patricia did not talk for many days after that. Many days. Her mind was filled with anguish, and if only she had a friend in the encampment, she would release any tears she had on to them. However, no one here payed attention to her, and she kept them in. She was only silent because of the shock, but she wanted to scream.

It had been Tavington? Wrong. It had been Cornwallis. But Tavington shot him. Wrong. Cornwallis had ordered it. Who was to blame? The employee or the employer?

She worked as a servant, not a slave. There was a small difference. She often found herself cleaning for little pay, which she had yet to collect, and also, she caught herself looking for Tavington. She had finally decided it was Cornwallis' fault, and she wanted to apologize to him for the accusations and such.

Finally, she found her chance.

Any respectable British soldiers, generals, lords, colonels, lieutenants, and such, were to attend a ball in New York, in a fancy loyalist estate called Midnight Hall. The man who owned it was named Merchant Bodd, and he was letting any servants come to help clean up afterwards and serve the food. Patricia enlisted as one of them.

When she was there, she was cleaning tables. She looked up to see Cornwallis and O'Hara side by side, chatting with a large bunch of ladies. They seemed quite pleased with themselves.

But, where was Tavington? Was he late? She knew he had been invited, so...Where was the damned man!

Ah, there he was. Tavington was standing alone, drinking a glass of champagne and looking around, evidently for someone.

Suddenly, a pretty woman with long blonde hair came over to him, stood next to him, and jumped into a conversation with him. Patricia watched something she'd never seen before - the cruelty leaving Tavington's eyes and being replaced by happiness. She knew he would never look at her like that.

She looked at the woman. Her hair went down to her shoulders, she was about two inches shorter then Tavington, and had large steel-gray eyes. She wore a handmade colonial dress, and it was very pretty.

She watched as Tavington laughed at what she was saying, toasted to her, and kissed the back of her hand. She giggled and went back of into the crowd.

Patricia stopped clearing the table.

What was _that_?

Patty felt something weighing on her chest, and questioned it. Was she feeling...? No, it couldn't possibly be jealously. Who could be jealous of Tavington...?

'Stop it,' she thought to herself, 'Do you realize what you're saying!'

But, with the jealousy or not, she decided to make her appearance with Tavington known to the world once again.

Walking over to him, she stared him straight in the face. He looked at her, his cold, blue-green icy eyes watching every movement she made.

"Yes?" he asked, irritated.

She took a breath. "Colonel Tavington, I'd like to apologize for accusing you of my husband's murder; I've decided that it was Cornwallis' fault this whole time, and I want to say I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Tavington was apparently taken aback by this. He looked up and refused to make eye contact with her.

"Yes, well..." he said, and if anyone had been watching him at the time, you would've seen he looked quite distraught, like the 'agitated bird' who puffs up it's feathers when it has been bothered.

The woman who he had toasted to then came up to them, her eyes locked on Patricia as if she had been part of the conversation all along. She locked elbows with Tavington. Patricia looked down at her. So did Tavington.

"Who is this?" the woman asked, never taking her eyes off of Patricia. There was a hint of anger in her voice.

Tavington paused. "This is but a servant girl..." His eyes had the 'get back' look, "Who has so generously offered to take my cup away." He smiled darkly.

"Ah," said the woman, nodding her head. Patricia was glad that she had stopped looking at her, because being under that woman's eyes was like being under a scanner.

The lady held out her hand.

"Lady Sarah Cardian," she said.

Patricia took her hand. "Patricia Kellings."

There was an awkward pause, and Tavington handed her his glass, keeping a close watch on her. Patricia nodded, and she turned and left.


	9. Secrets

Chapter Nine

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

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A/N: To **Tigerchild:**

I update so fast because I already have the story finished on my PC. I only like to update when I get reviews though :grin:

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Tavington was tired.

Very tired.

A night with the Dragoons right after the Midnight Hall party made him want to fall asleep in his sleigh bed and never wake up.

Unfortunately, Cornwallis had other plans for him.

The angry colonel stormed into Cornwallis' room and sat down.

"Colonel, it seems there have been some problems arising in your job lately," Cornwallis said, his voice low.

Tavington was quiet.

"Dare you ask what they are, I will tell you," Cornwallis said, turning around.

"My apologies. What are they, my lord?"

"At the Midnight Hall party. You were seen courting a young woman! Were you either highly drunk, stupid, or both!" Cornwallis asked, his voice rising. His face grew red.

Tavington raised an eyebrow. "You mean Lady Cardian, my lord?"

"Yes! That is precisely what I mean!"

Tavington, smirking, stood up, walked over to Cornwallis, and whispered something into his ear. Cornwallis' face went from a frown to delight. Tavington pulled away.

"Really?" asked the Lord.

Tavington nodded.

Cornwallis laughed, a tiny, happy-but-nervous laugh.

"Very well," he chortled, "So be it."

Tavington smiled. "I'm glad you see it my way, my lord."


	10. Talking with Bordon

Chapter Ten

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

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A/N: We're already up to chapter ten? Oh my goodness! That's half the story done! Congrats to my twentieth (sp?) reviewer!

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Patricia was cracking under all the pressure that was on her shoulders.

Cornwallis was responsible, Tavington was an ass but he was payed for it, her husband had three other wives, she was almost murdered by him, she was working as a servant for a side she'd never thought she'd work for, and Tavington was flirting with someone else. Yet, she didn't know why this bothered her.

'Let the man have some fun,'her mind yelled at her, but she couldn't get that Midnight Hall scene out of her head.

Maybe it would've been best if she hadn't gone.

But it was too late for that. So she decided to figure out some questions she had, and she knew someone who could tell her.

Bordon.

"Umm, sir? Could I talk to you?" she asked him one day when he was in the dining hall.

He shrugged. "Sure. Can I help you with anything, ma'am?"

"No, thanks. I only need to know what you can tell me about Colonel Tavington," she said, smiling innocently.

Bordon laughed. "Nothing," he said, "I'm not allowed to tell you unless the Colonel gives his consent. Besides...why?"

She had to know. "I fight for the Crown, remember? Please sir, I need to know-"

"Fight for the Crown? No, you _work_ for the Crown."

"Well, then," Patricia said, " I work for the Crown. But can you tell me some of the Colonel's interests? Hobbies?"

She paused. "Who Lady Cardian is?"

Bordon realized what was going on. He chuckled. "Oh, her..." he said

"Well, do you know anything about her?"

"Know anything about her? Of course I do," He shifted in his seat, "Only thing is, I'm not going to _tell_ you."

There was only one thing to do. Patricia grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He was shocked, and she was embarrassed, but it had to be done. Finally, she got up.

And Bordon began to talk.

"Who is Lady Cardian?" she asked.

"Ah, Lady Cardian. She's a wealthy woman. She and Tavington have been friends since...since childhood, I think."

"What importance does she have to him?"

"He only kissed her hand, if that's what you're getting at, "said Bordon, "And he was probably drunk. However, she means a lot to him. He was writing her back when we attacked at the Wilderness Campaign. Rumor has it that she's an old girlfriend, but that's a silly rumor."

"What does he like?"

"Hmmm..let's see. Whoring, boxing, gambling, horse-racing, vodka, fox-hunting, and his job."

"Whoring and fox-hunting?"

"Yes, like every other man in this place."

Patricia stood up. "Well, I thank you for your time, Mr. Bordon, but I must be going." She took off, leaving a confused but happy Bordon sitting at the table.


	11. Lark's Answer

Chapter Eleven

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

Patricia had the day off.

She was bored. Tavington was out training the Dragoons, and she had nothing to do, which was unusual. She decided to sort herself out.

Her husband, Eric Kellings, had been shot and killed by Colonel Tavington of the Green Dragoons, whom she had sworn to kill. However, she had been shot and taken prisoner of war, and given the job a servant. Later, she had found that the man she had it in for was not to be held responsible for the murder, he did not choose to do it freely.

So she found herself pining for Tavington although, he, apparently, wanted her dead.

She felt weird. Was she having affections for the Butcher? It would seem so, but there were so many cloudy parts...

She ran to her friend, Lark, a fellow servant, and asked her, "How do you know if you're in love?"

Lark looked at her and leaned on her broom. She thought, then said, "It's a different kind of feeling... You feel like everything you've ever worked for was thrown away, and you don't care. You just think about that person until... It bursts."

She smiled. "Why? You got someone in your life?"

Patricia shrugged. "A childish crush, no more. You sound like you know love like the back of your hand."

Lark nodded. "Someone's been calling on me."

"Really? Who?"

"..."

"Who? A soldier?"

Lark grinned. "That's for me to know and you to find out. But who do you feel for? I can't imagine anyone you like," she said, "No offence."

Patricia smiled and whispered the name into Lark's ear.

Lark's face dropped like a stone. Pulling away, she stared in horror at Patricia. She shook her head.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," she said, and left.

Patricia felt a little down. "But wait!" she called, "What can I do about it?"

Lark looked over her shoulder. "I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." She walked away, leaving Patricia alone.

And leaving her to think.

And suddenly, a dangerous, but wickedly good idea, popped into her head.


	12. The Colonel's Room

Chapter Twelve

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

A/N: A slightly sexual scene here, read if you dare. Yes, it still is PG-13.

* * *

Tavington whipped off his helmet as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple; he was hot, exhausted, and hungry, not to mention sleep-deprived. Sure, there had been days worse then this, but he would've liked to sleep at any given chance he had, and that was not happening. This transformed him from a cold colonel into a cold and grumpy colonel. After snapping at two of his men, he felt he might crash, and retreated to the lunch room.

As he walked, despite his low energy, he thought. Mostly, about the previous raid he had done, and Cornwallis' words. He thought of Lady Cardian, and Patricia. Ugh. Patricia. She had been on his mind a lot, flashing back to the fateful day when he found her standing there, shouting, "My name's Patricia, and I'm going to kill you!"

He should've shot her twice.

He peeled off a piece of salted venison from a platter being passed, and chewed it. Aww, it was horrible. But it was the only thing he had, despite the fact Cornwallis' dogs were fed better.

'That Kellings girl,' he thought, "Why did she follow him so?'

He stopped chewing.

'No...,' his mind told him, 'You can't possibly be questioning your hatred for that hoe.'

He shook the thought out of his head, finished his venison, and went inside the main house building.

He walked up a floor, went halfway down the hallway, and stopped at his door. He fumbled with his keys. With his hand on the doorknob, the door swung open.

He stopped. He was sure he had locked it...

Walking in, he was startled to see Patricia, dusting off his desk.

"What in god's name are you doing?" he asked, surprised.

Patricia looked up, stopped dusting, and smiled. She curtsied in her frayed dress. "Good afternoon, Colonel. I was cleaning your room for you."

Tavington eyed her with suspicion for the sudden politeness.

He sat down in an armchair, and picked up a book, but kept his eyes on her.

After a while, she stopped cleaning. Tavington looked up at her and stared, not saying anything.

"Colonel Tavington, I've something to tell you," she said nervously. Tavington smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"Really, now?" he asked, skeptically, "I've something to tell you, too."

She looked up.

He nodded in her direction. "You first."

She took a deep breath, and said, "Colonel Tavington... Lately, I've been finding myself falling for you."

There was a deathly silence in the room.

He stood up and walked over to her, smiling.

"And I'll tell you something..." he said.

He bent over, and whispered into her ear, "Slut."

"Wha-?" she asked, but before she could finish, Tavington had locked lips with her.

Shocked, she tried to push away, but he had her shoulders and wasn't letting go. He was surprisingly strong, but then again, that was to be expected. She could smell the fragrance of a sweet cologne surrounding her.

Finally, he let go. She stumbled a little. His hair was a bit tousled. He handed her two pounds and said, "Remember your place."

Patricia left in a flurry.

* * *

A/N: Was that not awesome! 


	13. You Will Be Hanged!

Chapter Thirteen

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

A/N: This is a shortie chapter! I'll post another one right after this, how 'bout that?

* * *

Tavington was called into Cornwallis' room early that morning. He knew something was wrong when he saw his face. He sat.

"Colonel Tavington, can you explain to me what happened last night?" he asked, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"Nothing, my lord," Tavington responded.

"That's not what this young lady says," said Cornwallis, Patricia stepping out from behind him.

Tavington sighed.

"My lord, this girl has been suggesting she love me for about two months now. I only kissed her, and it was to satisfy her desire. I assure you," and he looked at Patricia, darkly, "It won't happen again."

Cornwallis pounded his fist on the table. "It most certainly will not! This is the most disgraceful thing I've seen in years! From now on, if I see you two even near each other, you both will be dismissed and Patricia, you will be hanged!" he yelled, spit flying, face red. Tavington sat, emotionless.

Cornwallis pointed at him. "And _you_ of all people!"

"Forgive me, my lord," Tavington asked, not really caring for forgiveness one way or another.

Cornwallis turned around to face Patricia. "And, you, don't ever make contact with him again! Showing affections in public! Don't you know he-"

"My lord," Tavington reminded him sternly, cutting off his sentence. Cornwallis watched him for a moment, then resumed his posture. "Very well," he said, "You may go." Patricia left.

Cornwallis looked at Tavington. "About _that_... When is it?"

"April 17th," Tavington said, getting ready to leave, "But don't tell the girl."

"I won't."


	14. The Fight

Chapter Fourteen

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

A/N: Looks pretty good for Tavington and Patty now, doesn't it! Keep reviewing!

* * *

Patricia wanted to kick herself. Why did she have to tell Cornwallis? What were they hiding from her?

She needed to know.

After all this, she still loved him.

She decided to ask someone who she knew would hold the answers, and she had one on her list: O'Hara.

She found him training the calvary.

"Step to it, men! If you plan on serving under the Colonel, you'd better get this down flat!" he yelled. He laughed to himself, but stopped when he saw Patricia. He tipped his hat to her.

"May I help you, Mrs. Kellings?" he asked. Patricia smiled. "Yes, actually, there is something," she said respectfully. O'Hara raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he asked.

"What can you tell me about Colonel Tavington?"

O'Hara paused, straight faced. A cool wind blew. He looked stern when he was thinking. "Well," he said, "Gossip has it he has a big affair to attend to on the 17th of April, possibly being lifted to a higher rank. But aside from that, I could probably tell you anything."

"How old is he?"

"36."

"Do you happen to know if he shares affections with anyone?"

O'Hara opened his mouth to answer when Tavington rode up behind him.

"Ah, good day, Colonel!" O'Hara said, smiling. Tavington nodded, his horse shifting under him. Patricia felt small, with the two men sitting on horseback talking above her.

She saw Tavington glance down at her, angry and cold.

"Training the recruits?" he asked O'Hara, averting his eyes.

O'Hara laughed. "Recruits, sir? You can't call them recruits. They are farmers and gamblers. Goodness, they don't belong here!" he said, insultingly. "It's funny how set they are for being commanded under you."

Tavington stood, a smirk creasing his face, with the slightest hint of a pleasured smile. "These are the men who want to be Dragoons..."

"You there! Soldier!" he cried, addressing a recruit.

"Yes, sir?" the man asked.

"Do you wish to serve under me?"

"Yes, Colonel! I would like nothing better!"

Patricia found that amusing.

Tavington turned to O'Hara. "Tell me, O'Hara, what've you installed into them that makes them say that?" he asked. He chuckled. "They don't know I'm the most hated man in this war, do they?"

O'Hara shook his head. "That was the one fact His Majesty had left out," he said, "And you know these men, they don't know the difference between 'Best Colonel' and, 'Most Talked About Colonel,' whether it's good or bad."

There was a silence, before Tavington looked down at Patricia and asked, "Shouldn't you be running along now?"

She made herself scarce.

O'Hara leaned over his horse to whisper, "Colonel, she asked me some things about you."

Tavington jumped into controlled anger. "What!"

"She asked of me your age," O'Hara continued, "And that of any possible relations you might've had."

With a quick motion, Tavington whipped out his sabre and charged down the hill.

Patricia heard the gallop and spun around to see Big Ben speeding towards her. She heard the faint cries of O'Hara yelling at Tavington from atop the hill, and she ducked as she felt a sword whip over her head. She felt the rush of wind as the horse ran past. She watched as Tavington turned Ben around, and pulled up to a stop next to her.

She froze, and watched as the colonel seethed. He got off and squatted down next to her, his sword in hand.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She didn't say anything. She looked up the hill to see O'Hara running down. Maybe she could stall out until he came.

Tavington stared at her.

"You..." he said, through gritted teeth, "...I regret the day you were brought here...And, do you want to know something else...?" He leaned closer.

"My lord Cornwallis may have told me to... kill your husband...," he paused between words, "But it was I who found it rather... enjoyable."

Patricia stared, scared he might take a hack with the evil blade.

"You horrible creature," she whispered.

At that moment, O'Hara reached the bottom of the hill. "Don't you dare touch her, colonel!" he yelled. Tavington stood up and sheathed the weapon.

"Where are you going!" O'Hara yelled. Taking Patricia by the hand and helping her up, they both watched Tavington storm off.

"Something has to be done about that man," O'Hara said, brushing Patricia off. She shook her head.

"Something needs to be done about me."


	15. Nightwalker

Chapter Fifteen

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

A/N: This is one of the last chapters! Only five more!

In response to **SteeleRanger**: That's the secret! Don't worr, you'll figure it out later.

Happy Easter everyone!

* * *

Tavington lay in his bed, wide awake. His hands were behind his head, and he stared at the ceiling. It was about 2:30 a.m., and no method of growing tired was working. He blamed it on the nap he had taken earlier.

As he studied the designs on the ceiling, he thought about Lady Cardian. She would be visiting again in two days...he was almost dancing with anticipation.

And his thoughts drifted to Patricia.

Why couldn't he be rid of her? He knew how she felt. He also felt he was going mad. No matter where he went, she was there. The more time she was there, the worse he got. He knew what was going to happen if she didn't leave him alone - he would have an insane fit and hurt her. And in order to keep his job, he couldn't let that happen.

He needed to keep her safe - his job and last drop of 'honor' depended on it. But he knew himself better then anyone. Being friendly wouldn't be the easiest thing, but until he could find a solution, he would make do with the social skills he had.

He rolled over, his leg catching in a blanket and twisting painfully. He shook it out. No, no way was he going to stay here. He needed to move.

Getting up, he pulled on a loose shirt over his pants and stretched. No one else was awake at 2:45, who was going to check if he was dressing like a slob?

He quietly opened the door. Stepping into the hall, he closed it without a sound and began walking in this place that was just like a hotel. He passed door after door, knowing exactly who resided there. He went down a cold stairwell, and found himself passing the servant's quarters, where he stopped at room #283. He had to admit, it was eerie, standing at the room in the well-lit but very empty hall. There was no heating in this building, and he watched his breath come out in little puffs. He glanced at the room before moving on.

It was Patricia's room.

He made his way outside, the fort grounds totally empty, aside from the watchmen on night-shift who saluted him from atop their posts. He nodded to them and kept walking.

The shirt he had pulled on was very thin, and it made the cold seem even worse. Biting his lip, he sat down in the grass and looked up. There was nothing out of the ordinary, so he started thinking.

Subconsciously, his hand traveled up his shoulder to the once infected cut. He looked at the ugly scar tissue, and rolled his eyes. If only it hadn't begun stinging the day he needed it...

He thought about the church. It had been resting on his mind a lot, lately. He wasn't feeling guilty about it, but he questioned himself, 'Do I really need to show my better side when I'm about to do something bad?'

He wondered about it, but couldn't figure it out. It bothered him that no one else could, either.

He sat for another hour, before the ruffled shirt become frozen, and he had to go back inside. He walked up the stairwell, and once again, found himself in the servant's quarters. He stopped at Patricia's room again.

He knew what he was doing when he put his hand on the doorknob, and he knew what he was doing when he opened it.

Stepping inside, he saw the sleeping figure of Patricia, comfortable in her bed. Next to her bed was a nightstand, and on it was a journal. Knowing he wasn't supposed to be doing what he was doing, he silently walked over and opened it. He turned to a random page in the middle, and read to himself,

'_Yes, Colonel Tavington is a gentleman, but I am afraid I am the only one who can see that. I have seen him humiliated and treated like an animal when Cornwallis is near him, and maybe he deserves it, but I can't help feeling bad._ _I can only hope he does not take it to heart, but knowing him, he won't. I know it would bother me to watch a dog eat steak and then sit down and eat leftovers.'_

Heskipped around a few pages, until he finally found what he was looking for.

'_...And that woman! I don't know who she is, except her name is Sarah Cardian. And I already loathe her! She treats me like, well, I won't say, but she is truly scary. The way she can watch someone..it feels like she is scanning me for faults. But my main question is, why does she stay around William? I've already told you how I bribed Mr. Bordon and O'Hara, and found she was his old girlfriend, but the word 'old' is in there. Although, she is one of the youngest looking women I've ever seen. Ah, well. I'm too afraid to ask Tavington who Ms. Cardian is, and I most definitely won't question where she stands to him.'_

Tavington closed the journal, and put it back down. He looked at Patricia, and sighed. His hand calmly rested on the handle of his sabre.

He silently unsheathed it and held it out. It gleamed at the tip where a beam of moonlight shown in from the window. Very delicately, he placed the blade to her neck.

She stirred a bit, but didn't wake. He watched her, not daring to make the swing that would take her life. The curved blade teased him to make the tiny cut, but he held it at her neck, releasing the tension of killing her. In his mind, he imagined her begging for mercy right before he cut her throat. He did this, not out of pleasure, but to get rid of the anger building up inside him these last few days.

After a few minutes, he pulled the blade off her neck and sheathed it. He walked quietly towards the door, and closed it.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, and Patricia opened her eyes, smiling.


	16. Find and Retrieve

Chapter Sixteen

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Disclaimer: I do not own T.P.

* * *

A/N: These are the last few chapters, as I said before. Please, review!

* * *

"Colonel, wake up!"

"Colonel Tavington! Can you hear me?"

Faint voices were surrounding Tavington as he opened his eyes. The faces of Bordon and O'Hara were above him, looking down. O'Hara gave a sigh of relief

Tavington glanced at his open window. The sun was in the middle of the sky. It was well into the day.

"What happened?" he asked, dazed.

"Apparently, sleep happened," O'Hara said, hands behind his back, "We simply couldn't wake you up, colonel."

"Another rough night?" Bordon asked. Tavington forced a smile, and O'Hara rolled his eyes before leaving. Bordon watched him. "You know,"he said, "Sometimes I question if he's really a man," he said, snickering.

Tavington cocked his head. "So do I. Now, is there anything I can help you with?"

Bordon looked at him, confused. "No, sir," he paused, "Why?"

Tavington raised an eyebrow and waved.

Bordon, with an "Ah!" left the room so his colonel could get dressed.

About five minutes later, he came out, in his Dragoon uniform. His hair shone in the light as he walked. At his side were his sabre and pistol. He walked to the stables, and got on Adrienne, the French Ambassador's horse sent as a gift. Starting with a trot and breaking into a gallop, he charged across the fields before reaching the gates of the fort. With two or three Dragoons accompanying him, he ran.

Instead of going to the village, he was going to another fancy estate called the Lilac Manor. He wasn't on a raid, he was on a visit.

After half an hour, he reached it. Riding up to the door, he knocked and waited. A slave opened the door, and, recognizing the familiar face, called, "Sarah! William's here!"

He heard the footsteps of high-heeled shoes clunking down the wooden staircase, and all of a sudden, Lady Sarah Cardian was at the door. Tavington hopped off his horse, and Sarah pounced on him, smiling and laughing. Tavington, being the way he was, simply held her, quite unsure of what to do. She grinned at him.

"Ready to go?" she asked, breathlessly. He nodded.

He held out his hand, and she grabbed it and jumped on to the horse's back, a little nearer to the edge then usual so Tavington could get on. He climbed up, trying not to knock Lady Cardian off, and she held around his waist as they rode.

After another half an hour, they reached the fort. The gates opening, Tavington and the Lady trotted all the way into the stables and got off. Taking Sarah by the hand, as proper gentlemen do, he led her inside the Main Hall.

When inside, he brought her into Lord Cornwallis' room. He was smiling.

"Ah! Lady Sarah Cardian , daughter of James! How wonderful it is to see you again!" he shook her hand. "It is my greatest honor you are here."

Lady Cardian smiled. "Why, thank you, sir."

"We have your room ready, the suite, just as your father asked. You may go to it whenever you please, do not feel you have to wait for anything."

"Thank you, Lord Cornwallis."

Cornwallis turned to Tavington. "And, you, you should be rewarded for the safe retrieval of our splendid guest."

Tavington politely nodded. Rule one: Do not interrupt the lord's good mood.

Cornwallis, then, clasped his hands, fingers entwined, and looked at his desk, his tone suddenly growing serious. "Now, you two, about the upcoming"

Lady Cardian cut him off, apparently nervous. "No, it's fine, my lord. We have it all set straight."

Tavington looked at her and nudged her. "What are you doing?" he asked. She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. Tavington got the message.

Cornwallis got it, too. He sat, silent for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

"Well, I'll leave it up to the both of you. Now, Tavington...and Lady Cardian, we need to have a talk."

"Sir?"

"This is about Patricia Kellings, the servant..."

Tavington felt a tiny drop of sweat roll down his cheek; he prayed Cornwallis wouldn't mention the minor ordeal he had with Patricia to Lady Cardian.

Cornwallis knew not to embarrass his colonel. "Lady Cardian, I am only saying I think you should keep an eye on her. She...well, she has affections for William."

Lady Cardian turned and stared at Tavington in shock. Tavington brushed it off. "However, the feelings are not returned," he said, curtly.

"Oh," said the Lady, but it was obvious she doubted him.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the three.

Tavington and Lady Cardian stood up. "Well, we think we'll be going," Sarah said, smiling at Cornwallis. "It was a pleasure to see you again," he said, and turned to face his fireplace.

As they left, Lady Cardian turned to Tavington and said, "Now, where is this Patricia Kellings you are so popular with?" There was a tiny bit of anger in her voice that couldn't be hidden.

"Will you kill her if I tell you?" he asked, his voice low, and slightly seductive.

She smiled. "No, I won't. But don't you think it be best I... give her some advice?"

He raised his eyebrow. "I can only begin to imagine..."he trailed off. "She's in the servants' quarters, room 283."

She nodded and without saying another word, left. Tavington watched her walk down the hall, her long dress flowing out behind her.

'_Wow,_' he thought.

All of a sudden, he remembered something. "Wait!" he called. She stopped and turned around about thirty feet away. "Yes?" she asked. He paused, then said, "Don't tell her... about..."

She nodded and left.


	17. Visitor

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own anything 'cept Patricia and Lark.

* * *

A/N: This story, all in all, is twenty chapters long. Only three more to go, counting this one. This chapter is a midget.

* * *

Patricia sat in her room, bored. She was lying on her bed, flipping through the old entries of her diary. It was a very small, but thick, book, and she had entries from as early as her teen years in it. Reading it was like watching herself grow up. However, she hadn't written in it since she was married to Eric; she didn't have the time.

Now she did.

She was startled to hear a knock on the door. Praying it was Tavington, she opened it and stared.

Lady Cardian.

A sweet smelling perfume flooded her small abode. Despite her shock, manners kicked in, and she bowed and said, "Why, Lady Cardian! I wasn't expecting you! Do come in."

Lady Cardian smiled and curtsied. "Yes, hello Patricia. Don't mind if I do."

Walking in, Patricia closed the door behind her guest. Lady Cardian looked around the room for a few moments, looking at the faded pictures on the walls and the tiny table and chairs in the corner. "You, I see, have the best of the servant's quarters," she said.

"Thank you."

Lady Cardian's face suddenly grew stern, and she pulled up a chair and sat. "We need to talk," she said. Patricia could bet what was coming.

"About what?"

Cardian stared at her. "About Colonel Tavington."

Patricia silently gulped.

"He's my friend, that's all," she said.

Cardian nodded, and there was a silence. "Tell me, if you're just good friends, then why does he tell me you love him?"

Another pause.

"I can't imagine why he would say that."

Lady Cardian, smiling, stood up and began pacing around the room.

"Then...maybe, there's something here _that_ will tell me why," she said. Patricia froze.

Lady Cardian stopped at Patricia's bed, where the diary lay. Getting a sudden evil look, almost exactly like Tavington's himself, she placed her hand on it.

"No!" Patricia yelped, the thought bursting out in words.

Cardian stopped, and looked at her, knowing she had found the answers to her questions. However, she pulled her hand off of it and kept walking.

Patricia said nothing.

"I respect your right to privacy," Lady Cardian said, pacing, "But I must tell you."

A silence.

"Stay away from William."

Patricia felt rage boiling inside her, and wanted to unleash it at this bitch of a woman who was telling her not to love. She couldn't just choose to do that, and she wanted to let Cardian find that out right in her face.

Lady Cardian opened the door. "I'll be going now," she said, "And remember what I said."

As she closed the door behind her, Patricia screamed.


	18. Pain

Chapter Eighteen

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Patricia Kellings and her friend, Lark.

* * *

A/N: Here's where it gets awesome! You'd all better review for this chappie, it's the best one! This one is pretty long... 9 pages on my WordPerfect. A sexual scene here, too.

* * *

She needed to stop loving Tavington.

That was all that clogged Patricia's mind that day.

She need to stop.

Too many people had already told her it was a bad thing. Her good friend Lark, Cornwallis, Lady Cardian... and Tavington. Or, at least he showed he didn't want her.

She needed to make herself stop.

For the whole day, she kept trying to imagine what it would be like if Tavington and her had a future together. And she couldn't see it.

And, that pained her most of all. It wasn't going to happen, and she knew it. She didn't need anyone to tell her or lie to her about it. It was written in stone, and no amount of hope would change it.

After three days of feeling this pain, she became depressed.

Lord Cornwallis announced that, since the British were going to be leaving America and sailing back to England in a few days' time, he wanted to have one last dinner party here in his name. It was mandatory, so Patricia knew Tavington, and Lady Cardian, would be there. Reluctantly, she went.

When she arrived in the Red Soldier, one of the biggest loyalist manors in the country, she saw the colonel and Lady Cardian. They were holding wine glasses and talking. Tavington was looking up into the cool night sky, and Lady Cardian was playfully pushing his shoulder, and they both laughed.

She stepped out of the carriage. Tonight, the servants in the manor would be the ones doing the work. She, along with the other servants, would have the night to spend dining and partying. The ones under Cornwallis, that was.

She was wearing her best dress, which was also, possibly the worst there. It was ripped, tattered, and small. Her cheeks turned red as she saw all the fancy women giggling at it.

Tavington glanced at her, but kept talking to Cardian. Cardian followed his gaze, and saw her. Patricia ran inside.

She poured herself a glass of French Champagne and went to the buffet table, where she saw some of the most delicious looking foods she'd ever seen. While on line, someone bumped into her. She turned, and saw Tavington.

"Oh, pardon me," he said, actually apologizing, and tried to get away from the large crowd of people flocking to the food.

She zoned out, watching him walk off into the crowd. It seemed everything was going in slow motion.

She wanted to call for him to come back, to tell him to wait, but she didn't. She remembered what everyone had told her...

"Stay away from William."

"This is the most disgraceful thing I've seen for years!"

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into..."

Those thoughts haunted her, day and night. So she needed to stop and listen to them.

Lark came up to her. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked, very casually. Patricia forced a smile and sighed. "It could be better, trust me," she said. Lark frowned. "Aww, well, I hope you cheer up. Hey, guess what!"

"What?"

"Remember how I said a soldier was calling on me?" she asked. Patricia thought, then said, "Oh! Is he here?"

"Of course he is!"

"Please, introduce me!"

Out from behind Lark stepped O'Hara. Patricia's face dropped like a stone.

O'Hara smiled and shook her hand. "It's nice to see you again, Patricia" he said. Lark looked at both of them. "You know each other?" she asked. O'Hara nodded.

"I was the one who picked her up and carried her back to the fort when Colonel Tavington wounded her," he said.

"Really?" asked Patricia. She had, after all, blacked out, and only felt someone grabbing her.

Suddenly, Tavington and Lady Cardian walked over. "Did I hear my name?" the colonel asked.

Lark shook hands with Lady Cardian, and O'Hara said, "Oh, hello Colonel, we were just talking about how Patricia came to be here."

Tavington locked eyes with Patricia for a few seconds before saying, "Ah."

Lady Cardian made no contact with her whatsoever.

The little group, O'Hara, Lark, Patricia, Lady Cardian, and Tavington, made their way over to an outside table. They all sat, drank, and chatted. Patricia sat next to Tavington on her right, and Lark on her left. At the head sat O'Hara, and Lady Cardian sat across from Tavington.

"Mind if I join you?" asked a voice, and they looked up to see Bordon.

So the seating changed. On one side, in this order, sat Lark, Patricia and Tavington. On the other, in this order, sat O'Hara, Bordon and Lady Cardian. They all sat across from their partners, except for Bordon and Patricia, who barely knew each other.

(Me: That's because I don't like Bordon! HA! HAHAHAHAHA!)

Then, the servants came around. They served up roasted turkey, wine, pork, corn, anything you could possibly think of. The other outside tables around them were all digging in.

Patricia decided to start a conversation, if she could. "Did anyone hear about that man, the ghost?"

Tavington stopped eating, and so did O'Hara and Bordon.

"I've heard about him," said Lark, "He's a violent brute who killed over twenty of His Majesty's soldiers."

"I know who he is," Patricia said, "But did anyone hear the latest about him?"

"I'm afraid to ask," said O'Hara.

Patricia paused.

"He's dead."

The table flew into an uproar.

"What?"

"He's dead?"

"When did he kick it?"

"How?"

"How do you know?"

"Huzzah!"

Tavington tapped her on the shoulder. "How did the bastard die?" he asked, "On the wrong end of a musket, I hope."

Patricia shook her head. "Doctors don't know why he died. They say it had something to do with all the blood from the soldiers he hacked up, he got an infection." She smiled. "He deserved it."

Bordon nodded. "That he did," he said, "I just wish I could've been there to see the brute go."

Tavington laughed. "Give him a kick or two."

The table erupted into laughter from all sides. After that, they finished eating their dinner and desert. The only thing left was to drink and go back home.

At about 11:35, they all started to disperse. Bordon went first, then O'Hara and Lark. Only Patricia, Tavington, and Lady Cardian were there. Cardian tapped Tavington on the shoulder and whispered into his ear, "I think it's time to go."

They stood up, and Tavington said goodnight to Patricia.

As they left, she felt a surge of happiness. She had been accepted.

That night, as she got ready for bed, she wanted to see Tavington. To thank him for not acting like Lady Cardian had. That was plenty to be thankful for, no?

As she walked down the hall, though, she had a sudden feeling of dread.

Something was terribly wrong.

She shouldn't be down here.

She should turn around right away and spare herself the misery.

Why was she still going?

Turn around - NOW.

Patricia turned around, and was scared, although nothing was there. There was a foreboding sense around Tavington's room, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders if she should go in or not.

She put her ear up to his door and listened. Silence.

She put her hand on the doorknob, and apparently, he had forgotten to lock it, because, without a sound, it swung open.

She didn't want to make a noise, in case he was sleeping.

But he wasn't sleeping.

Oh, no.

She froze as she witnessed what she never wanted to ever see again. The image was burned into her hear, and for the rest of her life, it haunted her.

Tavington was passionately kissing Lady Cardian, who was doing the same. They were standing towards the far corner of the room and didn't notice Patricia had entered.

Tavington was being pressed backwards by Lady Cardian's surprising strength, and walking backwards, he bumped into a chair. He seemed to ignore it as he pushed it over with his fingers, his other hand still on Lady Cardian's waist.

"Mmm..." he muttered, and the Lady sighed gently.

Patricia felt as though she were in a nightmare. Her legs were shaky, and as she turned to run out, she almost wobbled over. She didn't want to see anymore. She let the door slam behind her, not caring if they heard. And honestly, she wanted them to.

As she ran down the hall, she heard the door open, and she heard footsteps.

"Patricia?" Tavington asked, his hair out of his braid.

Patricia kept running, and when she reached her room, she closed the door and jumped on her bed, crying. Why hadn't she listened to her mind before she went?

She heard Tavington come in.

"Patricia?" he asked, his tone unchanging.

She looked at him, with fierce eyes and tears streaming down her face, as she had been looking when he shot Eric.

"Get away! I saw you," she yelled at him.

Tavington didn't say anything, but stood at the foot of her bed.

"I know you did," he said.

Patricia didn't say anything.

Tavington paused for a moment, trying to find words. "You see.. .Lady Cardian... is my fiancé. We're wed on... April 17th."

The words did more damage then a cannonball could've ever done.

Patricia stared at him, in shock. No matter how many unnecessary tortures or murders he had done, this blow was the worst.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked, tears falling freely.

Tavington sighed. "I didn't consider you my friend... until recently. I wanted to use it against you... but I'm sorry."

Patricia looked him in the eyes. "Go to hell" she whispered.

Tavington gave a weak laugh. "I probably will."

"I hope you do."

"Yes, well..."

His eyes, they were beautiful, cutting into her like a knife. They seemed to change from green to blue to gray at different times. "I hope you can forgive me."

Patricia said nothing.

"Please, let me tell you; If it had not been Lady Cardian, it would've been you." There was pure honesty in his words.

But Patricia was dissatisfied. "I hate being second, and I won't be a second for you!"

Tavington shrugged, kind of sadly. "Then all I can offer you is my friendship."

He held out his hand to her.

And, she realized, she needed to make a choice. Being second, or losing Tavington forever.

She looked at his hand.

And did nothing.

His cold, cruel tone returned when he said, "Then I will leave you, with everything we've built up gone. Goodbye, Patricia Kellings."

And with the slam of a door, he left.


	19. Knowing What's Right

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Disclaimer: I only own Patricia Kellings and Lark

* * *

A/N: This fic is about done. Warning: If you do not like suicidal situations, do not read this chapter.

Boy, did I just give it away. TT

Also, this chappie flashes from scene to scene.

* * *

Patricia was dead.

Mentally dead. She felt there was nothing else to live for. She was a shell.

And she knew it.

* * *

Tavington sat upon his horse, looking down at the beautiful hills below. In a day, they would be returning to England. He was a bit sad, though, leaving this whole place, but it was best.

He sat in silence, thinking off the previous night with Lady Cardian.

And what Patricia had done.

He finally realized what was wrong. On his part.

* * *

Patricia was going to die.

She was in such a state of mental anguish.

It had to end with her. As it had started.

* * *

'Every time you try to make friends,'Tavington thought to himself, 'It goes up in flames because of your cruelness. And you always have to hurt them somehow when you finally like them.'

He cared about Patricia. But he loved Lady Cardian, and although, she could be as cruel as he sometimes, it was what bonded them, and that was not what he and Patricia shared.

He knew what he had said was wrong, about Patricia being his wife if only she had gotten there first, but it was true. The cold, hard truth. And she didn't want anyone to lie to her.

There was no other option other then breaking her heart.

* * *

Patricia knew what she was doing when she stood on the roof of the building.

She looked down and saw the beautiful world, which, in reality, was a harsh andcruel place. Rape, murder, abuse, suffering,sickness,death...It was too bad for her.

She knew what she was doing.

She always knew.

* * *

"Colonel! Did you pack your bags?" O'Hara asked, riding up to Tavington.

"Yes," the colonel said, a low, sad tone in his voice.

"Is something wrong?" O'Hara asked.

Tavington turned to him. "How's Lark?" he asked, keeping his eyes down.

O'Hara read the signal. "It's about Patricia and Sarah, isn't it?" he asked.

Tavington was silent.

"Do what you know is the best, no matter who disagrees," O'Hara said, and rode off.

* * *

Patricia knew.

She would always know.

* * *

Tavington rode Big Ben back into the fort.

He was doing what he knew was right.


	20. Doing What's Right

Chapter Twenty

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Patricia and Lark

* * *

A/N: This is the last chapter, and depending how this goes, I might write a sequel. A few more sexual scenes in this one, and this time, you can tell they are sexual ;;. More mentions o' suicide. I'm so sad it's over!

* * *

Colonel Tavington awoke early that next day. He lay, staring. Finally, getting up, he dragged himself outside.

Immediately, O'Hara came up to him.

"Bad news, Colonel." He sounded extremely upset.

"What is it?"

"It's about Patricia."

"What? Is something wrong?"

O'Hara looked at him. "I'm going to be frank with you, colonel. She's dead."

Bam.

An emotional bullet hit Tavington in the chest and killed him.

"No.." he whispered, and a sudden fire danced in his eyes. It began to burn. "No...!"

He grabbed a picture from off the wall and threw it. Grabbing tables, chairs, anything moveable he could get his hands on, he began throwing and breaking and smashing. The sound of glass breaking and wood snapping sent soldiers from their dorms to grab Tavington and restrain him.

Lark came running up to O'Hara, tears streaming down her face. He wrapped his shoulder around her and held her as she began sobbing, burying her face in his chest.

When Tavington began to calm down, he asked, "How? How did she die?"

Lark looked regretfully at him and said, "It was because of you. Suicide."

Tavington felt the guilt eating him. It had been him. His fault. Now, he'd have to live with it.

But, why, though? Hadn't she been the one who didn't want to be his friend? Hadn't she been the one who denied his hand?

So, why was it his fault?

He held his head in one of his hands, as the first tears he'd had for years began to fall.

"Come on, colonel," O'Hara said, patting him on the back reassuringly, and leading him down the stairs, "It'll be ok."

"She didn't take my hand," was all Tavington could say.

"She didn't take my hand."

O'Hara led Tavington down to Patricia's old room. Going inside, he handed him a piece of paper. "This was her letter to you," he said, sadly. Lark began to cry again.

The paper read:

_Dearest William Tavington,_

_I am very sorry for what I have to do. If you are reading this, I am at rest. Please, do not feel bad or cry, if you are at all. What I did was wrong. Yes, I was the one who didn't want to be your friend, and for that, look where I have ended up. I never want you to blame yourself. I still love you. And, even though I know I can never replace Lady Cardian, I pray that you hold a spot in your heart for me. As my last wish. After all, all I ever got from you was a kiss, and I am unsatisfied. _

_Our little spat last night made me feel horrible. It was cruel what you did to me, and I was cruel in my own way. Even now, I still am sorry for making you feel pain. But I am at rest knowing I fell in love with, and died loving, Colonel Tavington of the Green Dragoons. I apologize for everything, William, and I hope one day I can see you again. Because if I couldn't, then I know I'd be in Hell. I love you always, and I never want you to forget that._

_With love,_

_Patricia Kellings._

"This was included in her note," said O'Hara, and reached into his pocket.

He handed Tavington two pounds.

* * *

The colonel stood in his room, combing his hair, silent. Lady Cardian sat on his bed, looking at herself in a hand-mirror.

"Are you almost ready to go?" she called to him. He closed his eyes and sighed. They were finally going to leave for England.

"Almost," he called.

She could sense the tone in her fiance's voice, and she knew what was wrong. Walking over to him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and took his face in her hand, forcing him to look at her.

"Something wrong, love?" she asked, knowing already what it was. And by knowing, she grew jealous. "Don't you love me anymore? Or have I competition?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, there is none..." he said, brushing off his suit.

Her grey eyes cut into him as she said, "Then show me."

He looked at her, and there was a pause. Then he kissed her throat, feeling the tiny pulse on his lips.

"Are you kidding?" Lady Cardian asked, a seductive smile on her face. She sat down. Tavington turned around to the full body mirror again. "Not now, Sarah," he said, keeping his eyes low.

Sarah pulled him onto the bed, and looked down at him. She straddled him. He lay there, watching her. He did nothing. He simply... wasn't in the mood.

She kissed him. "You need to let this pass," she said, unbuttoning his shirt as she did. She began kissing his neck, and down his shoulder.

He stopped her.

She looked down at him, and than at his hand that had stopped hers.

Looking her straight in the eye and with a low voice, he said, "This isn't fair."

"Oh, honey, don't be like that-" she said, starting to open the shirt again, revealing a nice, white, ruffly shirt underneath that.

This time, with more firmness in his voice, he grabbed her hand and said, "This isn't fair."

More cold eyes from Sarah. "Tell me, then," she said.

"Fair to who?"

There was a deathly silence, and Lady Cardian got off of him. She sat on the side of the bed.

"Who?"

* * *

He sat straight up, breathing rapidly, his bare chest cold. It was dark.

'It had all... been a dream?' he thought, reassuring himself.

He felt someone wrapping their arms around him from behind, he looked over to see... Patricia.

"Dearest, what's wrong?" she asked, wrapping herself up to her shoulders in the sheet.

She sat up, and he looked at her, watching every movement she made.

"I had a horrible nightmare..." he said.

Patricia raised an eyebrow. "Was it about Lady Cardian?" she asked, suspicious. Tavington shook his head.

"It was about you."

She pouted. "I'm not that bad, am I?" she asked, and kicked him. He laughed quietly. "No, no you are not. You're horrible."

Patricia kicked him again, and he laughed lightly.

"Go back to sleep," she said.

Following his lover's orders, he lay back, his head resting on his pillow. He thought about what he had done earlier.

* * *

_**Flashbacks**_

* * *

He had ran down the hill, dashing inside up to Patricia's room, where he had found her, about to jump.

"You crazy woman," he breathed, worry hidden in his mind, "You wouldn't..."

She looked at him curiously. "I love you so much..." Her voice was emotionless.

Tavington grabbed her shoulder as she stepped up to the windowsill. "Patricia, there is one thing I'll ever ask you," he said, not looking straight at her, "And that is that you will please _think_ about what you are doing."

She looked at him again. There was silence as the words almost echoed in the room.

"I wrote a poem," she said, in an eerie kind of way.

She took his hand and stepped down.

Tavington breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you..." he muttered.

The light that had once been there entered Patricia's eyes again. "Do you want to hear it?" she asked, her voice un-zombie-like.

"I'd like nothing more."

And as she recited the words, Tavington leaned over and kissed her. She stopped, and whispered, "I love you."

They looked at each other, and Patricia leaned foward, when Lady Cardian burst in. She stopped and stared at the two, who were on the verge of, as Americans call it, 'making out.' She stared, then ran over and slapped the colonel.

"The wedding is off!" she screamed.

To this, he responded, "That's just what I was about to say."

Lady Cardian looked shocked. "You... love this servant girl more then me?"

Tavington sighed. "I loved you once. But you have changed, and I'm afraid it's for the worst."

He patted her on the shoulder, and she began to cry. "I love you," she said, through tears. Tavington looked at her.

Knowing he was going to regret this later, he said, "Then you should've showed me."

And she was gone.

* * *

_**End Flashbacks**_

* * *

****

He and Patricia would make their wedding in August.

He rolled over, facing away from her. She absentmindedly began stroking his back. "You know," she said, "You haven't kissed me like you kissed Sarah."

They both sat up.

"I haven't?" asked Tavington, his famous, sly, grin coming on to his face.

Patricia shook her head.

Tavington eyed her. "Do you _want_ me to?"

Patricia gave him the 'Wow, that was incredibly naive,' look. (;)

There was a pause, before he took her head in his hands and stared at her.

"Get ready."

"I've always been."

* * *

A/N: Was that not the best ever? Please, please, please review! Ask me any questions! Also, I will be posting the poem she recited separately. Look for it soon! Tanks so much! 


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